


Dadcord and Daughtertale

by TopHat



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 00:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHat/pseuds/TopHat





	Dadcord and Daughtertale

Lisa keyed through the seventeen-digit entrance code to the building’s back door, made her way up seven flights of stairs through the carefully-memorized gaps created by the camera’s rotations, then bribed the agent guarding her door to refrain from reporting her latest late-night absence.

The necessary precautions taken, Lisa stepped into her apartment, flicked on the lights, and stopped in place when Mr. Snugglemuffin meow’d at her from Atticus’s lap.

“While I applaud you ingenuity, I would have applauded more loudly if you had noticed more than a single layer of security, daughter.” He motioned to the other armchair beside him, the other giving behind-the-ear scritches to the scarred-up tomcat Lisa had finally adopted after it snuck into her apartment for the fiftieth time. “I also believe we need to have a talk about your attire.”

Lisa shrank a little and tugged at the bottom of her suddenly-too-small crop-top. “Or we could not. It’s late, I’ve got school and you’ve got work, and we both need our—”

Atticus cut her off with a cluck of his tongue. “Let’s not pretend like either of us care about your school or my work. The world will not fall apart if I skip a board meeting, and I know for a fact that you would be failing if not for your gratuitous application of blackmail.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Atticus rolled his eyes. “It means that most people will not think less of you for being unable to remember the meaning of ‘soh cah toa.’”

He held out Mr. Snugglemuffins. “Now, let us talk.”

Lisa reluctantly walked over, accepted the cat, and sat down in the other armchair.

For a few moments, the only thing in the air were contended purrs.

Lisa broke first. “I only bought extra clothes because the seasons are changing and I want to be one of the cool kids.”

Atticus waved his hand dismissively, silver rings glittering in the soft yellow lights. “That is a lie, and your pawning of material goods at above-market prices to ignorant children in an attempt to acquire starting capital is not what I spent forty seven minutes on a couch petting the rat you call a pet for.”

“Mr. Snugglemuffin is a cat, not a rat. Weird how a guy who can make a chair which adjust automatically to the precise level of tiredness in his ass can’t tell the difference between a plague carrier and the thing that eats it,” she shot back.

Atticus’s jaw bunched. “It is equally strange that a girl who has received the finest education money can buy would resort to such base language and vague pronouns. Such action could be indicative of resources better used elsewhere.”

Lisa snorted. “Any time you want to stop paying grad students to try and teach me what a gerund is you’re more than welcome to. Also, you’re not my real dad, so let’s not pretend like I owe you shit for your ‘gifts.’”

“Your real father is currently going through a messy divorce while working as a plumber at Edwin’s Institution for the Gastrointestinally Challenged. I am a millionaire. I think both of us are happy that I have nothing in common with him.” Atticus pulled out a folder and flipped it open to a printed spreadsheet, with a number of cells highlighted in red. “What is more important than your atrocious speech patterns is how you have missed curfew no fewer than eighteen times in the past month. Would you care to explain yourself?”

Lisa scanned the spreadsheet, then shrugged. “Your numbers are off. Might want to check whoever you have watching me on Wednesdays, they’re really shit at their job.”

Atticus closed the folder and pulled out a binder. “Thank you for making me aware. After carefully considering the potential meaning of your discretions, I have decided that direct interference is necessary.”

Lisa’s hands froze. Mr. Snugglemuffin mrrow’d in confusion at the lack of pets. “No, no it isn’t. It really isn’t.”

“While growing up, you may begin to experience some changes,” Atticus began, flipping open the binder. “These changes may include, but are not limited to, extreme mood swings, previously atypical desires, and the development of personal habits which may substantially disturb your normal schedule. It is important to resist the urge to fight these changes, as such actions are both futile and—”

“Oh my god, no, I’m not talking about this, I’m not talking about it with you, and I’m not talking about this with you at one in the morning. Bye.” Lisa stood up, took a moment to adjust her grip on Mr. Snugglemuffin, and left for her room.

A few minutes later she returned, Mr. Snugglemuffins sound asleep in her arms, and sat back down in her seat. Atticus pulled out a key ring and held them out. When Lisa tried to take them though, he lifted them just out of reach.

“Sometimes, the world does not make sense. The urge to force it to, to bring the idiotic masses to heel under a single, perfect system, can be overwhelming. The mind-boggling stupidity of those masses, however, prevents such plans from succeeding. Instead they must be convinced that your way is the best way, and they must think that they have come to that conclusion on their own.”

He looked Lisa in the eye and dropped the keys into her hand. “I will not stop you from attempting to warp the establishment to fit your vision of a more perfect world. I do, however, request that you pursue your goals in safe, sane, and effective manner.”

Lisa’s fingers curled closed. “You’re talking about world domination.”

Atticus grimaced. “I just explained why world domination is impractical. I am talking about exercising limited control through legitimate channels because that is what works.”

“You thought I was going out and...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “What did you think I was doing?”

Atticus began extending fingers. “In decreasing order of likeliness, I believed you were engaging in recreation social drug use, robbing people, having sex, acquiring the political secrets necessary to begin manipulating business regulations, and engaging in some sort of charity work.” Once all five were extended, he dropped his hand. “For the sake of brevity, I have omitted that which seems less plausible.”

“So you decided to address the fourth most likely thing you think I’ve been doing at night?” she asked slowly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Jeanne has informed me that you can now buy an A grade from no fewer than three of the teachers in your school. I consider it unlikely that you would place yourself in undue danger with regards to either substance use, partner choice, or attempts to nurse puppies back to health in a gross misuse of your talents.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks Dad. Good to know I’ve got free reign to fuck all the boys and girls now.”

Another silence settled, this one a tad less tense.

Eventually Atticus stood up. “It is late, and I intend to retire. Simply know that I request either you take a guard along on your late-night outings or that your wear the vest, and that I would prefer that you do both.” He glanced at the grandfather clock. “Have a pleasant morning.”

Lisa watched him go. Once he was out the door, she put Mr. Snugglemuffins to the side, went over the couch, and picked up the binder.

“How to Establish an Espionage Team,” she read aloud. After a second she shrugged and tucked the binder under her arm. “Can’t be more boring than Huxley.”


End file.
